I swish around in my sleeping bag as I hear the roosters crowing in the distance. I pull myself out of my slumber, throw my old jeans and t-shirt on and head to the latrine and sink outside. Eventually, we head down the dirt-covered road to our host Myra's, house, where a lovely breakfast sits of rice and beans, eggs and fresh fruit. We make conversation with her children and laugh when someone makes a mistake in Spanish. After that, we head to the worksite where I participate in the hardest physical labor of my life.